


cellar of truth

by jenlisa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Excerpts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), family is reunited, log book, pureblood etiquette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 04:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20860568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenlisa/pseuds/jenlisa
Summary: Excerpts of my future fic, A Tale I Dread.





	cellar of truth

**Author's Note:**

> i know... i dont write i dont update my fics and now im here posting a new one. well. you gotta deal w it!   
also, this might be the longest fic i have worked on, im posting it in like a few weeks, this is just a logbook for scraps i wrote related to it. its a confusing jumbled mess but hopefully when the fic drops the dots will connect themselves.

He feels a generous amount of hesitation as he filters through his next thought, or well his next question, because he knows the answer comes with the package. They're all the same, really. They all harbour the same thoughts, values, and teach their next of kin the precise same order. Although the hesitation isn't because of that, no not really, the hesitation comes from (for once) his own feelings of gradual respect towards this individual. Because they're not.. like the others. They're uniquely fresh. Someone from a family line as theirs would quite honestly be against it, naturally, but he hopes for a more abstract and interesting response, seeing as their first introduction had gone as such. And the conversations they'd had after that.

But the question is burning, its like a bug that won't fly away. Stuck in that corner of his thoughts, wanting to be noticed. He decides, for some reason, that he has to ask. He has to know. He hadn't noticed how adamant he was until it stumbled from between his lips without his consent. 

"What do you think of Muggles?"

Oh, there he'd done it. He'd gone and asked it. Bugger. Well, there was no going back now, he'd have to follow through with it.

Though, theres a pause.

It's quite long, it stretches from a few seconds to a few more. To a full minute. 

He blinks a few times, wondering if he'd caused them to go mute all of a sudden. 

Then, "Muggles?" is being said in a certain, odd way. As if they don't know what they are.

Maybe, after all, they were the same as the others? Just as he assumed?

But their eyes are unfocused and not understanding, as if they've been living their entire life not knowing what the term meant or stood for, which is impossible seeing as every news article and title possesses that word in ink. In every headline. And those same articles have been gripped in between their hands during meals. So what do they have this look of utter confusion for?

He decides, maybe this is part of the act. Part of the _special_ attitude they have, and that he would have to coax the answer out of them himself, give into the game just as they wanted.

"Yes.. Muggles. The ones on the other side. You know, them ones. What do you think of them?" The sound of exasperation is feigned, he just wants them to feel the hurriedness in his tone so he can get his answer quicker.

"Well," they say, sitting up straight in sudden nervousness. The grey eyes dim a bit further.

"I don't think about them."

He feels a tad disappointed by that. It wasn't the answer he was looking for. He doesn't know what answer he was looking for, truthfully, but it certainly wasn't that. Though, the way they said it came out as somewhat heavy. As if the word carried much more meaning than just ignorant people with no knowledge of magical beings. 

Aware of the palms of their hands rubbing the sides of their robes, he made sure to keep his eyes on their face. The last thing he wanted to do was make them feel self-conscious.

"When you do think of them, do you think a certain way of Muggles?" he brought on next, careful with his wording, "It's just that I'm quite curious, I have many friends with different opinions - I'm interested to hear yours, if you have one." 

They're in a secluded part of the hallway, away from prying eyes and incessant chatter among the other students. Its quite hard to have a conversation with all that ruckus around. Also, he had maybe sought them out earlier, getting a hand on their planner for the day and memorising their classes, as he didn't want any of their classmates to interrupt. To build a steady opinion on someone, you would have to spend a lot of time with them, and it was mostly impossible for him to be able to get a minute of their time, usually. He was glad he had prepared this earlier. 

Alone, the two of them, that didn't seem to stop the other from glancing around in what looked like paranoia. 

"It varies. Sometimes." They finally had said. The answer showed disinterest. Cryptic and short. It was so unlike them, for any other time they would express their opinion judiciously, in a suave manner. With the face of a story-teller. In excitement, bringing the audience into their whirlwind. They had been like this many times before. It was so puzzling why this topic would affect them so.


End file.
